


No Trace

by angelslaugh



Series: Of Mysterious Encounters [2]
Category: Doctor Who (2005), Sherlock (TV), Supernatural
Genre: OOC characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-11 10:50:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4432712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelslaugh/pseuds/angelslaugh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The mysterious 'kidnapping' of one Rose Tyler-one that left behind no evidence-stumps the police. <br/>Then, when the case gets left on Detective-Inspector Lestrade's desk...things get a little messy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Case

Jackie Tyler was angry. And scared.

A month and no news of her daughter, Rose Tyler, and Jackie had gone through everything in Rose's room to see if she could find anything (well, actually, she hadn't quite brought herself to look in her daughter's diary yet, since she still had hope that her daughter would come home). The police had pretty much found nothing-no trace, hide or hair, of her daughter.

She suspected Mickey had something to do with it. However, accusing with no evidence got her nowhere.

She could only hope her baby would come back safe and sound.

~:~

Inside of New Scotland Yard's building, Detective-Inspector Lestrade opened up one of the files for a recent kidnapping-one of the impossible ones Sherlock could solve in less than a month.

DI Lestrade frowned as he read the name: Rose Tyler, Powell Estate. He'd read that name before. In different context, of course.

Pulling up old files on his computer, he typed 'Rose Tyler' into the search bar and saw something-an old Torchwood file ( _Of course it's Torchwood,_ he scoffed. Crazy, insane things tended to happen around those people). Apparently one of the girl's ancestors-

-wait, Dame Rose of Powell Estate? Sir Doctor of TARDIS? Dame Evelyn of Powell Estate?

The Detective-Inspector really needed help now, and with something as impossible as this, he knew just who to go to.

~:~

Sherlock was bored. Very bored. No new cases, no really intriguing ideas or anything. Not even John was doing much, just sitting there working on his blog. Or something.

He glared at the smiley face.

Then there was a knock at the door, and Mrs. Hudson appeared, smiling.

"Detective-Inspector Lestrade is here, Sherlock," she said rather happily.

Sherlock immediately brightened. "Is there a murder?"

Mrs. Hudson shook her head. "Kidnapping, dear. Apparently a girl just vanished out of thin air a month ago. Poor dear."

Sherlock frowned. "That's impossible."

"So is," DI Lestrade said, moving past Mrs. Hudson, "having your name on a charter about 108 years before you're born, and yet Miss Tyler does."

He handed Sherlock a 'MISSING' poster that was made, obviously by Jackie Tyler. And then he handed the charter and official-looking documents that sketched out three people, two which looked almost exactly like Rose Tyler and one that could only be 'Sir Doctor of TARDIS'.

Sherlock sighed, aggravated. 

"Please tell me you have something else," Sherlock grumbled.

DI Lestrade scowled at him. "Torchwood's involved."

Sherlock immediately grabbed his coat. "Ready, John?"

John blinked. "What's Torchwood?" he asked as he too got his coat on.

"Secrets upon secrets. I've only heard of them because of a number of insane things going on lately," he informed the group tiredly. "That document...I had to dig under layers of lies to get that. The picture and the charter weren't the only odd things."

"No?" questioned Sherlock as they got into a cab. "What were some others?"

"Charles Dickens claimed he and a man named Mr. Sneed-an undertaker-saw a glowing girl with Miss Tyler's exact description, but they quickly recanted their statements when asked." Lestrade looked at Sherlock with a thoughtful look. "The only other person that might know where Miss Tyler is at, is her boyfriend, Mickey Smith."

"So why are you joining us in the cab" John wondered aloud.

"So you don't get killed by a maniac with pills," Lestrade deadpanned. "Or kill a maniac with pills," he added, shooting John a suspicious look, who gulped.

~:~

Mickey Smith sighed. Again. This was the fifth time someone had yelled at him for 'murdering' Rose.

He hadn't done it. He'd just watched as she darted off.

There was a knock at the door. "Jackie, for the last time, I did not murder Ro-"

He stopped as he looked at the three men at his door.

"Mickey Smith?" one of them asked. Mickey narrowed his eyes. 

"Who're you?" he demanded instead of answering.

"Another idiot," scoffed the tallest of the trio.

Mickey glared. "I'm Mickey. Is this about Rose?"

Two nodded.

"Well, you're out of luck. I don't know where she is."

"Thanks, then, Ricky," the tallest one said.

Mickey punched him, then slammed his door shut.

On the other side, he could hear someone chuckling.

~:~

Jackie Tyler sighed as she opened up the doors. "What have you got?"

"Nothing, yet, Miss Tyler. Can we enter?"

Jackie nodded. "Would you like a cuppa? I was just going to make one myself."

"No, thank you," John said as Sherlock moved past Jackie.

"Did you have a coffee table replaced?" he asked her abruptly.

Jackie nodded, a little lost. "The night Rose went missing, she and this man came in, I think he was going to repay her for what happened at her job."

"What happened?" Lestrade wondered.

"It got blown up," Jackie said nonchalantly. 

"She worked at Henrik's, where the man got killed by a blast of unknown origin?" John demanded of Lestrade.

Lestrade was at a loss. How did they miss that when they were questioning the workpeople later that day?

"A man was killed?" Jackie asked, looking extremely pale.

"It was an accident, I assure you," Lestrade said weakly. That's what Torchwood had told them to write.

"Well, she and that man, John Smith, I think it was. Then she and Mickey went out to see some guy named Clive, and she never came home afterwards," Jackie said, looking down.

"Can we have this man's address?"

"I think Rose wrote it in her diary, I'd rather not look."

"Miss Tyler," Sherlock said, coming out of Rose's room looking vaguely nauseated, "do you know anyone by the names of Eviel, Evy, or Evelyn?"

Jackie blinked. "That was the name she was constantly muttering when she was still here," she replied, as though it was normal.

"How old was she? Six?"

Jackie tapped her chin. "Hmm, it must've been around Christmastime when she was twelve? Maybe during that, as she got a red bike that night from a stranger."

Lestrade frowned.

_This was just getting weirder and weirder._


	2. Great, Here's Mycroft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft comes in as they check Clive's place.

"Do you think that Mickey Smith could have killed her?" John asked Sherlock, who scoffed.

"Don't be ridiculous. That boy couldn't harm her if he wanted to." Sherlock glared at the papers. "It says here that Charles Dickens and a Mr. Sneed were questioned about the death of a maid named Gwyneth, last name unknown. They said they saw a 'glowing girl' matching the description of Miss Tyler, later recanting after people thought they had gone mad." Sherlock stood abruptly. "Mickey Smith did say where he last saw Rose."

~:~

They stared at the restaurant owner and his staff.

"Did you just say that this man that took the bottle of champagne took Miss Tyler and took off Mr. Smith's head?" Sherlock demanded.

This case was just plain  _weird._

"I did," the irritated shop owner snapped. "Now please, go away."

Sherlock and John left the restaurant, not paying much attention to the fact that people were snapping pictures of them.

"So, what we have learned is that Rose Tyler just vanished in the middle of an alley, with no witness other than Mickey Smith and a man that supposedly was Mickey Smith in question?" John verified. 

Sherlock scowled. "There must be something that I'm missing!" They got into their cab and were back to Baker Street, combing the evidence. Clive, the last person to see Miss Tyler that day other than her boyfriend, was dead.

~:~

The next day they were out again, going to see Clive. When they knocked on the man's door, they were confronted with a red-eyed woman staring at him.

"What?" she croaked.

"We were wondering if a man named Clive lived here," John said gently. "We're investigating the kidnapping of a young woman named Rose Tyler."

"You're here about the blue box man?" a kid piped up. "The one the blonde lady talked to Dad about?"

"Now, I'm certain that gentleman back there wouldn't want these two to barge in-"

"We're actually with the other gentlemen, we just had to go over evidence," John lied, to which Sherlock looked a little impressed at.

"Oh, well, then, come on in." She shut the door behind them and instructed the kid, "Go show these two to the other man."

The kid did as he was told, then left, leaving Sherlock and John to face the man they least expected to see there: Mycroft Holmes.

"Great," John muttered under his breath.

"What are you doing here?" demanded Sherlock to Mycroft, quite rudely.

"It's a matter of great importance to find Miss Tyler," sniffed Mycroft. "I wanted to find her as soon as I could after I found the Torchwood document, but when I did she was 12 and had no idea of this person-the Doctor," he clarified, setting down a few images. "I can only assume something happened then, because it was right after Christmastime, and the document wasn't found by me until then, but it claimed to be over 100 years old."

Sherlock sighed heavily. "Something is off about this case, Rose Tyler did not just mysteriously vanish."

Mycroft shook his head, smirking as he set down a photograph-it was of the deserted alley, a blue police box with doors wide open, and Rose Tyler darting down toward it with a wide smile on her face.

"I think she went with the Doctor on her own accord. The problem isn't finding her-it's waiting until she comes back."


	3. A Few Months later...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This goes through some events that happened in 'Broken Wings' in the chapter 'Slitheen' and eventually through the chapter 'Dalek'.  
> Also, I am not British, so please forgive any mistakes I make in that area.

In between more pressing cases, Sherlock found out as much as he could about Rose Tyler and this mysterious 'Doctor'. John helped, as Mycroft had asked both of them to search up as much as they could.

And they'd had little to no warning when the Doctor and Rose had come back-Lestrade had gotten a call on one of their cases, but before the sociopath-genius and his friend (well, Sherlock and John were more than  _friends_ but Sherlock insisted it be kept between them) could go question her, Lestrade had informed the two that apparently Rose, the mysterious Doctor, a Harriet Jones, and a secretary were stuck in Downing Street with a bunch of aliens, according to Mycroft who wasn't even there, but knew where she was.

After Downing Street was destroyed, Mycroft decided to visit Mr. Smith and demand to know why  _exactly_ he'd destroyed Downing Street.

Of course, it was two weeks after the fact and Mycroft and Sherlock, who'd once again take a cab, knocked on the door to Mr. Smith's flat at the same time.

The brothers glared at each other, but Sherlock was the one that asked Mycroft a question that shocked even Mycroft: "Did you know that a Torchwood agent has been following Miss Tyler whenever she's here?"

Mycroft bit back his response because the door opened and Mickey glared at them.

"Ah, Mr. Smith. I'm here to inquire as to why you destroyed Downing Street and hacked into the Royal Navy?"

Mickey glared at him and Sherlock. "To save Rose," was his snappy reply before slamming the door shut.

"He doesn't like me," Sherlock informed a stunned Mycroft. "Perhaps Rose is home right now."

They made their way to Jackie's flat, who answered it rather cheerfully. "Would you like tea?"

They agreed to tea, both glaring at each other all the while. As soon as they accepted the tea, they asked when Rose would be back.

Jackie dialed up her cell phone (which had been one of Mickey's old cell phones) and Rose answered it, sounding extremely out of breath, like she was constantly running for some reason.

When the call connected, Jackie moved to the kitchen and closed all the things that could let them listen in, but they heard the entire call anyway.

“Not now, Mum! Busy running!” Rose snapped.

“Running where, sweetheart? Oh, I bet you’re on an exotic plan-“ Jackie was cut off.

“Actually, I’m running from an evil creature known as a Dalek in the year 2012 and I _really_ don’t have time for this!” Rose screamed through the phone.

“EXTERMINATE!” A robotic voice shouted.

“Hurry!” A male voice urged, sounding terrified.

“Oh, dear, there are two men glaring at each other that want to talk to you, they said they need to know when you’ll be back,” Jackie told Rose.

“Am I on speaker?” Rose demanded, still out of breath. She sounded like she was getting tired of running.

“No,” Jackie snapped. “You think I’m that stupid?” Actually, Jackie probably wasn't stupid (well, in 'normal' terms. She probably didn't even realize that her daughter was, in fact, on speaker).

“No, ‘course not, Mum. I’ll try to get the Doctor back after I’m done  _running for my life on a staircase!_ ” She hung up, and Jackie came out, looking distinctly put out, like Rose hanging up on her was a personal affront.

Five minutes later, the door opened to the flat.

She looked like she'd literally taken a shower, and like it'd been a terribly long day. Sherlock blinked at the look in her eyes-it was the look John sometimes wore after a particularly bad nightmare about his time as a soldier.

"Miss Tyler?” Mycroft asked her, quite gently (surprisingly enough, he knew how to play people and not act careless for other peoples' feelings like his brother).

"What?" Rose croaked, looking exhausted.

“What happened the night you left Henrik’s?” Sherlock asked, thinking it was only logical to work up to the huge stuff. 

Rose blinked, surprise on her face, like she hadn't expected that.

 “I was going to give Wilson lottery money. Then these Aut-, er, electrical dummies started trying to kill me, and I assume they killed Wilson, because I hightailed it out of there. It blew up shortly afterwards. And I was gone for a year because I decided to travel with a friend, and we met a few people along the way-“ Sherlock could tell-Mycroft obviously could, as well-that Rose was telling a version of the story that was as close to the truth as possible to make it seem like she wasn't lying.

Clever.

“Charles Dickens, perhaps?” Mycroft cut in. Rose stared at Mycroft, shocked, and Mycroft smirked. “And a man named Mr. Sneed? Tell me, Miss Tyler, why a man from Torchwood has been watching you most of your life? And where did you get the red bicycle?”

Rose seemed to give up almost entirely. 

“Maybe, maybe, I have no idea what you’re blathering on about, and Mum got it for me! Right, Mum?”

Rose turned to her mother expectantly, but Jackie burst into tears. “The bike I got for you was stolen,” she wailed. “Then another one came in from out of nowhere!”

Rose, for a moment, looked like she was about to faint. Then, she seemed to gather her strength and glared at Sherlock, who looked extremely smug.

"You need to go." Rose slapped each of them once. "NOW!" she yelled, shocking the two out of the door, holding their cheeks gingerly. A few seconds later, Rose came out holding her cell phone and saying, "I never caught your names!"

Mycroft handed her a card. “Mycroft Holmes. This is Sherlock,” was all he said. “If you ever need me, please call this number.”

She nodded, then disappeared back into her flat. 

"What is a Dalek?" Mycroft wondered, accidentally glancing at Sherlock.

"Don't ask me. Why did she slap me?"

"Probably because you were smirking smugly."

"Or maybe it's because she thought slapping me would make her feel better," Sherlock argued.

Mycroft suppressed a sigh as he got into his vehicle and Sherlock followed.

This was going to be one long drive.


	4. What is Going On?!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock meets with Rose. Mycroft get unexpected news.
> 
> Takes place in the chapter 'Memories' in "Broken Wings".

Sherlock Holmes frowned as John’s irritated voice came from the kitchen as he moved back into the room with his cell phone.

“Sherlock, you need to quit giving out my number as yours!” John snapped, his earlier frustration and anger over their current case abating. They were certain that a man named Moriarty was behind this, but they didn’t know for sure.

“Hello?” Sherlock sighed. “Who are you and what do you want?”

“My name is Rose Tyler, I’d like to meet with you,” the girl’s voice was exceptionally cold.

“Why?” he asked, suspicious.

“I was told to by a man in suspenders. He wore a bow tie,” was Rose’s response.

Man in a bow tie-the man who’d dropped a note off when he was gone?

“I live at 221 Baker Street. I do hope you can find it. Noon on Wednesday. I do hate tardy people.” Sherlock hung up, not caring if he was rude, and took the letter he’d received and read it again.

_Sherlock Holmes,_

_I know you but you don’t know me yet. I say ‘yet’ because you’re going to meet me, just with a different face._

_Let’s just get down to the important facts:_

_First of all-and very important-is you need to not give Rose Tyler your number when she comes around. It’s vital she gets John’s and not yours, because if she gets yours it messes up the future and this will cease to exist._

_Second, give her Mycroft’s number. It’ll work, she’ll get to his assistant, and she MUST see Mycroft._

_Third, she’s going to be allergic to aspirin very soon, so I hope you don’t offer her any._

_That’s about it. Have a nice few years…I think…without us!_

_The Doctor_

~:~

Sherlock sighed when John opened the flat door.

“Hi, I’m Rose,” were the first words out of Rose’s mouth. An idiot would have been able to tell, Sherlock thought. “I just have a massive headache, not a hangover. I don’t think a hangover hurts this bad,” she said. John hadn’t said anything other than ‘coming’, so Rose was probably reading his face. An elementary tactic few people seemed to have.

“I’m John, John Watson,” John introduced. He let her in.

“Rose Tyler,” Rose said, this time giving her last name. “Do you have any pain relief medicine, if it’s not too much trouble?” She asked. Sherlock caught a glance. She looked about nineteen, maybe twenty, and she kept massaging her temples like her head hurt really bad.

“We do have aspirin, are you allergic?” John asked. Sherlock nearly spoke, but was beaten by Rose, who was probably lying.

“Yes. Sorry,” she apologized.

Sherlock made his entrance. “What exactly can I help you with, Miss Tyler?” he asked her.

Rose took notes out of her jacket and placed them on the table.

“I received both of these from someone known as the Doctor, with a young woman named Clara with him,” Rose said, obviously trying to stop herself from rubbing at her temples. “I don’t remember anything from the last few months, and I apparently need to ask your brother to get me someone named Jack’s number, and I also need to get your number,” she finished. “Future-me doesn’t have numbers for Jack, Ianto, and Gwen.”

Sherlock didn’t really care about the future right then.

Sherlock examined the note for a few minutes, then had to agree that they were legitimate. “Have you had that headache for a while now?” he asked Rose.

Rose nodded. “I’ve had it since yesterday. It keeps getting worse.”

He scowled. “I don’t want to call him,” he announced, looking over at John petulantly.

“Sherlock-“ John began, only to be cut off by Rose.

“Then let me, phone here,” she said, waving it. They turned blank stares on her.

“Here’s his number. Here’s mine. Now get out,” Sherlock ordered after giving her Mycroft’s assistant’s number and John’s number.

Rose snatched the notes off the table and left, scowling at him.

John was about to speak, but was cut off by Sherlock kissing him, aiming to release the stress that had been building up since they’d started their current case.

~:~

Mycroft made it to the same underground garage in record time, right before the black car pulled up and Rose stepped out.

Mycroft had to admit she was pretty-but he usually looked a different way than the feminine persuasion.

He sipped on his tea as he sat in the first chair, glad for the chance to be imposing. Or dramatic.

“Is this cliché or what?” she asked, taking the other seat. Mycroft raised his eyebrows.

“John declined to sit when I asked him to. You were quick to sit,” he said, slightly surprised.

Rose’s right eye twitched. “I’m not the guy dating your brother,” she pointed out.

Mycroft froze, teacup dropping out of his hand. He barely heard it shatter on the ground.

“John is dating SHERLOCK?!”

“That or he’s just sleeping with him,” Rose replied, unfazed. “But really, all I needed to ask you was to call Jack of…” she looked like she was trying to remember something. “Torchwood? He’s really the only one that can help me, and I have an inside source saying you could help.”

“Very well,” he said after a few seconds of deliberation. “I’m going to have to call the Queen, seeing as she’s the only one with access to Torchwood members.”

“I’m not talking about the London branch,” snarled Rose, who looked faintly surprised. The look vanished as she frowned, again looking like she was desperately trying to remember. “I’m talking about…” she trailed off and squeezed her eyes shut, her eyebrows drawing together. “Cardiff,” she said after a few seconds.

“Yes, and I have to go through the Queen, who’s the only one able to authorize it,” he said. “My name is Mycroft Holmes, just so you know.” He suspected that she had memory loss. Instead of the call to the Queen-since he actually already had the number-he called the head of Torchwood and quickly explained everything.

“Thanks,” he heard Rose whisper as he made the call.

After it was done, he only had to wait a few more minutes before the distinct sound of wings flapping was heard and a woman and Jack of Torchwood was headed towards Rose, who quickly blacked out.

“We’ll take her home,” Jack said, friendly towards Mycroft. “Sometime soon I’ll set up a meeting, yeah?”

Mycroft nodded. “That would be most efficient.”

The woman he’d come with touched Rose’s forehead and she was gone, and soon the others were gone, too.

Mycroft sighed and picked his umbrella up. Recalling what Rose said, he called his brother.

“What do you _want,_ Mycroft?” growled Sherlock.

“Why didn’t you tell me you and John were in a relationship?!”

“We’re not that close. Now I’m going to hang up.” Sherlock hung up, and Mycroft scowled.


	5. Meeting

It was a boring day when he was at home when Mycroft got a call.

“Hello, Mycroft,” a rather familiar voice said.

“Please don’t tell me your mind is falling apart again, because I thought you were fixed,” Mycroft told the Tyler woman.

“No, I’m not calling because my mind is turning to mush. I saved the Doctor-will give him a slap as soon as he wakes up-but right now I need to contact Harriet Jones.” Rose’s voice was serious.

“She’s the Prime Minister,” Mycroft said in dismissal. “A very busy woman.”

“Yeah, I know she’s the Prime Minister, but from what I heard from Sherlock was that you pretty much are the British government. So please get me to her direct line.”

Blast Sherlock.

Mycroft called the Prime Minister’s personal phone and asked her, “Is that all?” in a terse voice.

“Thank you,” she said, sounding genuinely grateful to him. Right before Harriet was patched through, Rose added, “Oh, and you should probably stop pining after that Detective-Inspector and actually do something about it; it’s almost as gross as some of the UST I saw in America in the future.”

Before he could ask what she meant by ‘seen’, she had already hung up.

He scowled and hung up.

He _did_ have to make sure the meeting next month was smooth.

~:~

Mycroft gave a tense smile at the Cardiff and London Torchwood members.

The Queen wasn’t there, but she’d firmly stated that the two branches should come together to pool their thoughts with Mycroft as the mediator.

Mycroft didn’t like the fact that he had to babysit these two groups, but what the Queen said was usually something that _had_ to happen.

Even _if_ Sherlock was dating John, which he had yet to speak to his brother about…or even _John…_ yes, he would speak with John.

“I’m Yvonne Hartmann, head of the London branch. This is my second in command, Ralph, and my third in command, Sally.” Yvonne was a smiley woman, always having a smile on her face. Her hair was slightly curled.

She was _fake._ Another reason why Mycroft didn’t particularly like the London branch of Torchwood.

“I’m Captain Jack Harkness, head of the Cardiff branch,” the American-accented man said with an easy, if not slight pained, smile. “These are my second-in-commands, Gwen and Eniel Cooper and Ianto Jones.”

Mycroft idly wondered how the man, if he was American, got to be head of Cardiff’s branch.

“I only came into the position on account of my longevity and the fact that my predecessor killed everyone _but_ me,” he added with a smile. “How did you come into power, Ms. Hartmann?”

“Miss, actually,” Miss Hartmann said with another smile. “And I worked my way to the top, of course. Canary Wharf Tower is an exceptional place.”

“I’m Mycroft Holmes,” Mycroft interjected, his deducing skills coming in handy. Yvonne didn’t work hands-on much. Little to no calluses on her hands, either of them, which led the man to think she worked on laptops more than writing. Expensive clothes, a sort of stinginess that Mycroft admitted (to himself. Only to himself) even himself had. She was very comfortable in her heels and was very thin-and by her manicured nails, he doubted she did field work, which meant that she was on a very strict diet and had never, ever seen combat.

As for Jack, he and his seconds all shared a sort of energy about them. Both Gwen and Ianto stood near to Jack, but not like they were clingy or protective. Their stances were inward, possibly meaning they were in a relationship that was actually _working_ with Jack. And their clothes were opposites-while Jack’s trench coat looked pristine, Mycroft’s eyes were able to pick up the areas where holes had been resewn, patches nearly indistinguishable had been put on, meaning Jack did field work often. Gwen’s clothes were cheap, though nice, perhaps because she did a lot of field work alongside Jack, or didn’t particularly care about impressing anyone. And Ianto looked impeccable, though he was glaring a bit at Hartmann, who was smiling at him predatorily, suggesting that Ianto either had been in a relationship with Yvonne or he’d worked under her once and hated it. Ianto was in good shape, and there were a few barely-there stains that nobody without Sherlock’s or Mycroft’s skills could pick up.

He didn’t know about this _Eniel,_ but he assumed it had something to do with the fact that when Gwen had appeared to pick up Rose, there had been an echo of _wings._

If Mycroft made a random guess even _without_ his abilities, it would be that Jack’s branch did a _lot_ of fieldwork.

All of his ‘deducing’ was done in the matter of seconds it took for everyone to look at him. Sure, he wasn’t quite as fast as Sherlock…but _nobody_ was. Well, excluding the Doctor, but that was most likely because the Doctor was an alien who had plenty of experience.

“And this is DI Greg Lestrade, along with my brother, Sherlock.”

Who was currently on his phone, ignoring everyone around him, possibly texting John about his observations, which _would_ have been annoying, but Mycroft had long since gotten used to his brother being rude.

“We’re here by order of the Queen.”

“Lovely,” Yvonne smiled. “I hope my branch is up to par.”

“Of course it would be,” Sally said. Yvonne’s smile vanished and she glared at her third, who shrank back.

“The Queen suggested this meeting take place precisely because of the fact that the Doctor is no longer to be considered the foremost threat,” Mycroft went on, smirking slightly at Yvonne’s outraged look. “Instead, she wishes you all to start focusing on pooling your resources.”

“But secrets between the branches have _always_ kept a semblance of peace!” Yvonne objected.

“You just want the Void machine to remain open,” Ianto said, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Harkness, control your third,” gritted Yvonne.

“Sorry, Tosh is at base,” Jack said easily. “If you were talking about Ianto, what he says is probably true, given what I know about you.” Jack grinned at her. “You play with forces you can’t control. I’m sure the Doctor would be enraged to know about what you’re doing.”

“You say that as if you know the Doctor,” Yvonne said almost greedily.

“Yeah, I do,” said Jack, looking unfazed. “I was a Time Agent.” He tapped his wrist and grinned. “51st century, Hartmann. I’m not technically human.” He grinned at her shocked look. “And I just _go_ by Jack Harkness. My real name’s lost in time,” his grin widened. Yvonne looked enraged.

“Yeah, and if Jack goes missing, I’m not above kicking your ass,” Gwen said, speaking for the first time. She had a nice voice, one good enough for singing if she wanted.

“Nor am I,” Ianto stated primly. “Who wants coffee?”

Mycroft sighed as Jack, Gwen, Sally, Lestrade, Ralph, and even a reluctant-looking Hartmann all rose their hands.

As soon as it was done, though, the delicious aroma of Ianto’s coffee made both Sherlock and Mycroft regret not getting any, but two extra coffee cups were set out for the brothers.

Yes, the meeting was off to a terrible start, but the coffee was _excellent._ Mycroft almost thought it was worth it.

~:~

“I’m _not_ shutting down the Void project! We almost have a rip in the fabric of our universe! It is something so amazing it’s almost ridiculous!” fumed Hartmann one gigantic headache later.

Not even Sherlock had been spared.

“It’s not natural!” objected Jack. “Ripping a hole in the fabric of our universe creates something that is monumentally _wrong!_ You want a glimpse into the Void? You had it!”

“Enough!” Mycroft snapped. “You’ve been at this for _over an hour._ Talk about something _else!_ ”

Jack had the grace to look a little sheepish.

“Funding,” Yvonne suggested, still looking a little angry.

“I have all the funding I need,” Jack said with a smile. “The nearby police station throws us fundraisers.”

“Why?” Yvonne asked, looking curious.

“We help everyone,” Gwen said, smirking slightly. “If there’s a robbery nearby, we have an excellent tech specialist. If there’s a murder or a weird death, we take care of it.”

“How?” Yvonne asked, puzzled. “You aren’t really near anything alien.”

Gwen, Jack, and Ianto all smirked. It was kind of disturbing.

“Well,” Ianto said, “we’re right on a Rift in time and space. We do have a Rift manipulator, but we don’t go around opening and closing it. All of our team knows better than to do that. A Rift is dangerous even closed, and it’s nowhere _near_ as dangerous as the Void.”

The look he shot Hartmann was clear enough.

Hartmann glared, but didn’t press the issue.

“Besides, we get all kinds of alien tech there,” Jack said. “We keep it deep, too deep for even Ianto to get to. The only one that can is Eniel, and she does it to keep it out of other hands.”

Mycroft figured there was a story.

Hartmann figured it out, too. “Why, did one of your people take some weaponry?”

“Actually, yes,” Jack said with a smirk. “But I think Ianto took alien cologne. Suzie took the Glove of Resurrection, something that was destroyed when Gwen accidentally used it to bring Suzie back to life and Suzie drained Gwen of most of her life. Tosh took something that took whole volumes and converted them to technology. I think Owen must have taken different alien cologne. Suzie was crazy from the high that came with reviving people for two minutes, and she was fired by me, personally, when she tried to kill Gwen and Eniel and nearly succeeded.” Jack’s grin had long since faded. “And Eniel is a weapon in her own right that has been with Gwen most of her life. Hartmann, my people have seen combat. Barely any of yours-except those who are trained for it-have seen combat. I don’t think that Torchwood London should have control of the Void opening, and honestly I think you should let the Void opening fade. If you keep on opening it, then when the Doctor sees it, he’s not going to be happy.”

Jack’s ominous warning rang throughout the room.

“So the Doctor _is_ a threat,” concluded Yvonne.

“You’re an idiot,” Gwen said in a matter-of-fact tone. “The Doctor is no more a threat than my flute.”

Mycroft saw Jack and Ianto swallow at that.

“Whatever,” Yvonne growled. “I should say that since we’re the _London_ branch, some part of the taxes fund us considerably.”

“Good for you,” Gwen said sarcastically. “How about we cut this meeting short since all we’re going to do is bicker and basically just be nasty to one another?”

Yvonne huffed and left, Sally following her with Ralph behind her.

Jack turned to Mycroft with a brilliant grin on his face.

“Nice to formally meet you,” he said to him. “I can’t believe you made Hartmann come here.”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. “I may or may not have implied that the London branch of Torchwood would get more funding if she behaved. She did not.”

“Oh,” Jack snorted. “Yvonne Hartmann…isn’t exactly the best one for the job. She’s one of the most trigger-happy morons out there. Anyway, I don’t come all the way from Cardiff by myself just for a meeting with that woman. You wanted to properly ask questions?”

“I did,” affirmed Mycroft.

Jack smirked, but it was more of an exhausted smirk. “Let’s reintroduce ourselves, then,” he suggested. “Captain Jack Harkness and my boyfriend, Ianto Jones, along with my girlfriend, Gwen Cooper, and my other girlfriend who’s an angel of the Heavenly Choir and is absolutely lethal with flutes is possessing her.” Gwen only grinned a little.

“Mycroft Holmes,” he responded. “This is my irritating younger brother, Sherlock, and a good… _friend_ of mine, DI Lestrade.”

“You have _friends?_ ” Sherlock asked dubiously, looking at Mycroft. “Or are you sleeping with him?”

“Sherlock, I was wondering the same about you and John,” Lestrade snorted.

Mycroft frowned.

Sherlock shrugged. “It’s not as if I care what you think, to be completely honest.”

Jack looked amused. “It’s difficult to know if two people are sleeping together,” he said to the three of them. “I knew three people who didn’t exactly have _tension-“_ he waggled his eyebrows to emphasize his point, “-but there was this _chemistry_ around them that was so strange I still wonder if they’ve been sleeping together.”

“Wonderful anecdote,” Gwen said, rolling her eyes, “but we’re not here to talk about your experiences with the Doctor, Eniel’s sister, and Rose. We’re here to give you a rundown of Torchwood Three’s capabilities, and why we’re telling you this is…well, beyond me, but I know better than to object.”

“Our list is short,” Ianto went on. “We primarily help aliens and use the less-dangerous items to do so. While we’re supposed to be a classified operation, Gwen’s old precinct head is an inter-dimensional traveler who wound up here when he died and hasn’t really aged, writes…well, he writes adult literature, and helps us on occasion, as he’s basically immortal.”

“Not like me, though,” Jack interjected. “He has a demon inside of him that helps him out. Cardiff’s a good place for him.”

“Oh, yeah, and the pizza place knows where our back-entrance office is,” Gwen said offhandedly. “And if you’re looking for it, you can see the elevator, but if not, you can’t since there’s a perception filter there.”

“We have a Rift manipulator that we do _not_ use unless strictly necessary,” Ianto continued. “We usually just tell everyone that the Rift is unable to be gone through. Save for a few times, we have not used the Rift for selfish purposes.”

“Mostly,” Jack finished up, “we get blowfish-head aliens and creatures known as Weevils from the Rift. Blowfish-heads are more intelligent, yet out of the hundred caught since I went to Torchwood, six have willingly given up and given rides home. As Gwen said earlier, we do help out the precinct when it’s a slow day since we have an angel who has enough juice to sort through the dead’s memories and Gwen here who’s telepathic. Actually, all three of us are.”

At Mycroft’s alarmed eyes, Ianto blinked.

“Oh, not to worry, we don’t pry into people’s minds. Well,” he amended, “Gwen and I don’t unless it’s strictly necessary. It helps, though, when a teammate is overwhelmed by ugly thoughts.”

“Yes, well, that’s another matter entirely,” Jack grinned. “Occasionally, bad things happen. But we think that so far we’ve got it all handled.”

“Of course we don’t,” Gwen scoffed, but she grinned cheekily as everyone looked at her. “The Rift presents a monumental danger, so we guard it. I joined them when they were beginning to get a little high-and-mighty.”

“Yes,” Ianto confirmed, “and she’s teaching us that we have to be held accountable for our actions.”

“He’s the archivist,” Jack smirked. “Much more deep than anyone but Emmy can be.”

Gwen shoved him.

Mycroft cracked a tiny smirk.

The Queen would definitely be pleased to hear that.

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually my first non-OC oriented story, so please be gentle with the criticism and I apologize if this story is horrible.


End file.
